Category Archives: Economics

Building an Economy: Energy

11 Monday Apr 2022

Posted by in Economics, History, Politics, Politics for Worldbuilders, State Formation, Writing

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In my quest to give worldbuilders powerful tools to make their stories cooler, I’ve hesitated for a long time to tackle the subject of wealth and economics. Economics matters for politics quite a lot, and authors who want grist for compelling conflicts can find an embarrassment of riches here, so to speak. But how the heck do you turn such a complex subject into a useful model?

However, my recent post on the vicious internal politics of the Russian economy proved illuminating. I now think that the correct approach is not to try and jam all of political economy into a single model. Instead, we’re going to lay out several distinct lenses that you can pick and choose between, to organize your worldbuilding the way you want it. No one lens will tell the whole story, and we’re not going to try. But each lens will highlight a specific set of conflicts that can play out in economic behavior. In your own stories, you can focus on a single lens that clarifies the conflict you want to write about, or layer several lenses on top of each other if you’re feeling ambitious.

(This is similar to how we discussed empires in a previous post.)

We begin with the most fundamental level of economic analysis: energy.

(The following is largely based off of ecologist Joseph Tainter’s massively useful book The Collapse of Complex Societies. It also takes some from Lewis Mumford’s Technics and Civilization.)

By “energy,” I don’t just mean electricity or oil, although these are important. “Energy” includes any accessible way to turn a resource into work. The most fundamental energy source is food. If we don’t eat, we die. So, much of our activity is organized around producing calories and other nutrients that we can then consume. We invest the energy source of human labor and transform it into calories, which then are turned into more human labor to produce more calories.

Let’s say that it takes a full day’s work for a man to get enough food to feed himself. If so, the man would be in a desperate state: no clothing, no shelter, no leisure activities other than collapsing at the end of the day in total exhaustion. All activity would be directed toward getting food. A group of people in such a state would have a low level of culture, hardly worthy of the term.

Now, suppose that this group developed some way to get food more efficiently. It could be a new division of labor between male hunters and female foragers that raises the productivity of each; it could be finding a new, energy-dense food like tree nuts or buffalo. In either case, suddenly the group has a new surplus of food production. People have a few hours in their day to do something other than produce food. Or, the work of one person can now feed more than one person; so not everyone needs to gather food, and some people can devote their time to other kinds of work.

Note that the availability of an energy surplus presents options for how to benefit from it. Perhaps everyone gets to work a little less hard, but then devotes the rest of their time to leisure. The society that results would have about the same low level of material wealth, but might develop a rich culture of games and storytelling. Perhaps everyone spends less time gathering food, but they also develop different arts and crafts with the rest of their time; people might make better clothing and live in more comfortable shelters, and accumulate various prestige goods. Perhaps most people keep gathering food as before, but the surplus food goes to feed a small class of artisans who do useful work for the group: blacksmiths, potters, tanners. And perhaps another class of functionaries who do rather less work: chiefs, priests, poets, or professional warriors.

The development of a group and its culture depends on the availability of an energy surplus, its source, and its size. Possibilities for cultural development are very different if the average person works 12 hours a day to produce enough food for everyone, compared to 11 hours, or 3. How a culture responds to the availability of an energy surplus will dramatically influence its future development. Perhaps everyone will benefit, or perhaps some people will benefit from the surplus and others will work as before. And the manner in which they work and benefit could vary widely.

But back to the source of the surplus. A surplus can be generated in three main ways:

  • exploiting a new energy source;
  • using existing energy sources more efficiently or productively; or
  • allocating the surplus unequally between persons.

Suppose a farmer is working a small farm with hand tools. It’s grueling work and long. But then she gets the idea of yoking a donkey to a plow. Suddenly, she controls a new source of energy than just human labor: animal labor. The animal can do a lot of the work, and the farmer needs to work less hard, or can produce more food. And the animal eats food that people would not. The energy surplus grows.

Then, benefiting from the strength of her donkey, the farmer develops a new and heavier plow that can produce more food with the same effort. The energy surplus grows again.

Then she realizes that if animals can be made to work for a larger energy surplus, so can people. Slavery is born: slaves are made to work for more of their day than their owners would have, and the surplus is captured by the owners. The benefits of the energy surplus are divided unevenly. It gets even worse if the slaves are fed less than free people would eat; the energy surplus grows and the slavers benefit, but the slaves may waste away and die. The slavers would have to capture new slaves, perhaps by raiding other groups, perhaps by enslaving unfortunates within their own group.

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For most of human history, the main energy inputs were human labor and animal labor. Firewood too; the chemical energy from fire was used in cooking food and keeping us warm, and later for other things as well. The invention of the sail turned wind into an important energy source, which made ocean transport much easier. But then the gear was invented: suddenly, kinetic energy from other sources could be transformed into useful work. The windmill and watermill were able to replace labor that was previously done by animals. Then came the steam engine, and suddenly coal became a useful energy source. Then the combustion engine and the battery, then nuclear power, and so on. Each new energy source brought benefits with it, but also brought political changes—in part because the people who controlled that energy were different.

In our time, the computer has revolutionized all of society. In this model it is not a new energy source, but allows us to use existing energy sources more productively. It also changes the allocation of our energy surplus, as unskilled labor becomes displaced and technical expertise becomes massively more productive than at any previous time in human history. The rise of robotics is already having similar effects, and those effects will grow as robots replace more and more human labor. We now must ask what we will do, as a society, with all the available human capacity that is no longer needed for its former employment.

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This discussion was quite brief, but you can already see how it provides a powerful way to think of economic conflict in your stories. We can add another layer and ask what happens when energy surpluses suddenly shrink. Suddenly, societal arrangements that worked with a given level of energy become unsustainable. If you want to know what happens next, check out Tainter’s book. (The title is a spoiler, though!)

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(This post is part of Politics for Worldbuilders, an occasional series. Many of the previous posts in this series eventually became grist for my handbook for authors and game designers, Beyond Kings and Princesses: Governments for Worldbuilders. The topic of this post belongs in the planned second book in this series, working title Tyranny for Worldbuilders. No idea when it will be finished, but it should be fun!)

Wealth, Power, and Social Orders

26 Thursday Apr 2018

Posted by in Economics, History, Politics, Politics for Worldbuilders, State Formation, Uncategorized, Writing

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(This post is part of Politics for Worldbuilders, an occasional series.)

Suppose there were two people on a desert island. One owns a crate of food; the other owns a gun. What is going to happen?

Very shortly, the person with the gun is going to also “own” the food; the other person might be dead, or might be reduced to the level of a slave. (In the immortal words of Clint Eastwood, “There are two kinds of people in this world…”)

This illustrates the fundamental problem of property’s relationship to power: if an actor has a lot of power but little wealth, it will often try to gain more wealth through violence. If an actor has much wealth but little power, it will often try to use its wealth to gain power—if only for self-defense! And this dynamic has played out throughout history, leading to endless cycles of bloodshed and misery.

To survive, as North, Wallis, and Weingast (NWW) argue, groups of people need to come up with some solution to this danger—a way to align the interests of those who have wealth and those who have power. This is called a social order.

NWW identify three kinds of social orders: the foraging social order, the limited-access or “natural” social order, and the open-access social order. Foraging bands deal with the problem of wealth and power very simply: group members have roughly equal wealth, physical strength, and social status. There is relatively little incentive to take more with violence, as the other group members will unite to destroy you.

As we will discuss fully at another time, egalitarian bands use several techniques to enforce social equality: malicious gossip, mandatory gift-giving, and the threat of splitting the group if one faction becomes too powerful, to mention a few. However, these methods do not guarantee success; it often happens that a respected chief is able to accumulate enough personal loyalty, wealth, and prestige that he can gain lasting control over the group, which is passed on to his descendants.

That brings us to the limited-access order, which has been the predominant mode of social organization throughout the history of states. In a nutshell, those with power are also given control over wealth as a consequence, in a tacit agreement between elites in order to minimize conflict between them. In the words of NWW, “By manipulating privilege, interests are created that limit violence.” The most obvious example was European feudalism, in which brigands with large armies “went legit” and set themselves up as landed aristocrats, along with supporting networks of bureaucrats and clergy to help them run things. As NWW put it, “In all natural states, economics is politics by other means: economic and political systems are closely enmeshed, along with religious, military, and educational systems.” One could also look at Soviet-style communism, in which wealth flowed to the regime leaders by virtue of their control over the military and police apparatus.

A key aspect of the natural order was that impersonal law and procedural equality did not exist. The regime was not a neutral arbiter of people’s social and commercial disputes; it existed to defend the privileges of the ruling coalition as a class, and thus your treatment by the regime depended on your personal relationship with the ruler or other elites. As NWW put it, “Personal relationships, who one is and who one knows, form the basis for social organization and constitute the arena for individual interaction, particularly personal relationships among powerful individuals.” This limited the ability for people to form complex organizations, in business or society more generally: if they could not settle disputes internally, the state would not do the job for them and the organization would collapse.

Partly, this was by design. Elites protected the value of their “rents” by deliberately restricting the ability of those outside the regime to organize groups of people. It may seem strange to us, in our society of mass organizations, but in the feudal era it was tantamount to treason to organize an independent guild of craftsman outside of the regime-sanctioned guild, or to have a town of people who swore loyalty oaths to each other. That was why English entrepreneurs needed to petition the Crown for the right to form a joint-stock corporation, for example. And in Communist or Fascist regimes, even such mundane organizations as chess clubs needed to be approved by the regime. In this way, a limited-access regime is able to retain control over economic activity and take its cut, and to prevent possible competitors from arising via new organized groups in the populace.

Again, the natural order is the most prevalent throughout history. It is almost inevitable for those with power to demand wealth, for those with wealth to seek access to power, for the two classes of people to become incestuously intertwined and then to use their power to suppress competition. Think of the relationships in many Latin American countries between oligarchs and generals. Think of the paramount business associations and unions found in much of Western Europe, organized and maintained by the state, which have the effect of protecting incumbents and squelching entrepreneurialism.

The biggest problem with the natural order, however, is that it is fundamentally unstable. If someone becomes too powerful or too wealthy too quickly, suddenly there is a mismatch between what he has and what he (or others) might want. This generally leads to a breakdown of the delicate balance of power in the regime, culminating in violence or even civil war. This is why, argue NWW, autocratic regimes tend to underperform democracies in economic growth over time: because their relatively better performance during good times is outweighed by frequent destructive episodes of civil war and social breakdown.

(This is a crucial reason why dictators need to gain control over their countries’ wealth: not merely out of greed, but to protect themselves from rich competitors. Regime outsiders who strike it rich represent a deadly threat to the regime.)

The third form of social order, the open-access order, is a historical anomaly: it first emerged only a few centuries ago in Britain, as elites gradually transformed their particular privileges into general rights (through a long and subtle process that NWW discuss in detail). This does not merely mean democracy, though Britain and the United States are the chief examples. In the open-access order, elites have no special privileges in law, and military power is removed from partisan politics or the extortion of wealth, becoming a neutral enforcer of the political system; it stays neutral because no single political or business leader has the opportunity to bring it under his or her control.

What distinguishes the open-access order, and what makes it work, is that anyone is allowed to enter politics or business, and to organize companies or political parties or activist groups without the permission of the regime. And you need both parts: political freedom is protected by economic dynamism, as new companies challenge the old leaders and displace them before they get too cozy with the government. Economic freedom is protected by electoral competition and turnover in political leadership, which makes policies that benefit the mass populace relatively more attractive to ambitious politicians compared to policies that benefit a handful of powerful companies. (See the post on selectorate theory.) NWW call this the “double balance.”

It should be noted, however, that for all its achievements the open-access order is profoundly fragile and in danger of backsliding into a natural regime. This can happen in either of two ways (or both simultaneously). First is for the government to become too powerful relative to the economy, in which case it can throttle free competition. Second is for individual businesses to become too wealthy and influential compared to their competitors or the government, which leads businesses and governments to build corrupt relationships with each other, with businesses gaining special privileges and returning the favor by keeping favored politicians in power. To a degree, such backsliding is always present (the military-industrial complex comes to mind, as does the growing political power of Google, Amazon, and Facebook). And the natural tendency is for such collusion to accumulate like layers of sediment over time.

As Mancur Olson warns in his The Rise and Decline of Nations, it is always easier to organize a small group of powerful actors to lobby government for some subsidy, than it is for the mass of the citizens to organize against them. This is because the average person is barely affected by the average subsidy and won’t bother to get involved, whereas the beneficiaries have a great deal to gain. Over time, this tendency results in a steady calcification of the economy and the government, as interest groups accumulate to feast on the populace’s wealth through direct or indirect means. The only way to prevent such decline, Olson suggests mordantly, is for an invading army to sweep away the existing corrupt relationships.

Fortunately, this invasion can be metaphorical. David P. Goldman (AKA “Spengler”) argues that American corruption declined in the 1980s, as the new tech industry displaced the existing corporate titans despite their close relations with government. The same can happen in the political sphere, if a determined political faction dismantles corrupt bargains and is rewarded electorally for it. That is the strength of the open-access system.

But it remains fragile. In the United States, we ought to be alarmed by the unprecedented decline in new business formation in the past decade, and the manner in today’s tech oligarchy is actively stifling competition—even as they exert themselves in the political sphere.

As authors, how can we use these concepts? Here are some points of conflict: growing power brings the temptation to take the wealth of others. Growing wealth attracts violent vultures, or inspires the wealthy to gain power as well. Sudden shifts in power and wealth will threaten to destabilize the balance of power in a society, with war as a likely result. (A brief glance at the history of the Congo will provide many depressing examples.) These tendencies are rich ore for story conflict, and the thoughtful author can build powerful plots from them.

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(And don’t forget, I’m accepting submissions to a fantasy anthology, Ye Olde Magick Shoppe. Check out the announcement and start writing!)

The Power of Guiding Metaphors

19 Saturday Dec 2015

Posted by in Better Fantasy, Economics, History, Military, Politics, State Formation, War, Writing

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I’ve lately been reading The Axis Grand Strategy, a book published in America during World War Two. With only light editorial comments, it presents translated writings from German military theorists and officers about different aspects of warfighting. (The editors are presenting this material, in part, as a demonstration of Nazi perfidy; they highlight passages in which the Germans offhandedly note various breaches of international law—for example, that the invasion of neutral Belgium during WWI was conceived of a decade in advance.) The book is incredibly interesting from many points of view, and even as a historical artifact itself; I did not know, for example, that the Allied powers were calling themselves “The United Nations” even during the war.

One point that the book is reminding me of is the importance of metaphors in structuring thought. Over and over again, the German authors refer to the ideal military enterprise as a well-oiled machine, operating with incredible precision down to the smallest detail. To make such a machine possible took a stupendous level of planning and organization, which had to be carried out years in advance (and which the authors describe in great detail). This was one factor that pushed German doctrine to the conclusion that to have any hope for victory, they needed to decide upon war several years before actually carrying it out, and then to direct all of their government policy and grand strategy to support that decision. That is, once the German decision for war was made, it became largely inevitable that war would result even three or five years later—because German leadership believed that such decisions needed that much lead time for the planning process to be adequate, and victory to be possible.

To be sure, the “well-oiled machine” metaphor was not the only reason that German doctrine came to that conclusion, or even the most important one. But it surely played a role, because it presented an ideal towards which to aspire.

Lewis Mumford, in his Technics and Civilization, presents a similar argument about the development of vast hierarchical bureaucracies. He writes that the age of coal had dramatic impacts not only on our economy, but on the mindset of society’s leaders. Where previously, water-powered manufacture had been relatively decentralized, coal-fired steam power created tremendous economies of scale. The most efficient method would be to tie all of your machines into a massive central boiler; this also meant that they had to be standardized, coordinated, and operated without any sort of individual discretion or initiative.

According to Mumford, the success of centralized manufacture led thinkers to imagine that other centralized projects were ideal as well—massive bureaucracies, mass armies, central planning of the economy, and so on. These people had been conditioned by the guiding metaphor of coal-fired steam boilers, and the resulting hierarchical organization of mass factories. Many would even make the parallel explicit. Individual initiative simply made a mess; better to control everything from the head. The result was the age of totalitarianism.

Economist Richard Bronk, in his The Romantic Economist, makes a similar argument about the development of the idea of equilibrium markets in economics. He says that the guiding metaphor there came from thermodynamics; in an attempt to make economics into a mathematical science akin to physics, champions of quantitative economics proposed simplifying assumptions such as “utility” or “self-interest” that could transform economic behavior into something predictable, something that could be captured in quasi-thermodynamic equations. Bronk argues that such metaphors have been played out, and the further progress in economic thought needs to borrow metaphors from the Romantics—biological processes, or ecosystems, or webs of interdependence.

Today, we netizens are conditioned to think about networks, or crowdfunding, or robots. These new guiding metaphors have in turn produced new ideas of how governments should work, or how organizations should be structured. Some of these new ideas are even useful. But in any event, they are very different from the sorts of ideas that would come from a person accustomed to steam-powered factories.

The concept of a guiding metaphor is important if you are any sort of creative thinker, whether in business or government or the arts. If you write fiction, think about what metaphors influence your characters or even whole societies. If you have a business, think about how new metaphors can suggest new products or services. If you are in government, stop trying to bludgeon your society with models of coercive government that date from nineteenth-century proto-fascism.

If you want to create something new, try applying a different metaphor.

When Do Societies Face Unrest?

02 Thursday May 2013

Posted by in Better Fantasy, Economics, History, Politics, Revolution, Self-Promotion, War, Writing

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I have just read a recent journal article by the brilliant scholar Peter Turchin, in which he elaborates on his theory of the dynamics of social instability over time and tests it on the United States from 1780 to 2010. Put briefly, his theory holds that one can expect a society to suffer greater social violence (such as riots or lynchings, as opposed to routine crime) in a relatively predictable cycle. The larger “secular” cycle occurs every 150 years; a smaller cycle of violence occurs roughly every 50 years, superimposed on the secular cycle. Thus in the United States, we had peaks of societal violence near the years 1870, 1920, and 1970, with the Civil War being the peak of the secular cycle. Turchin forecasts that the next secular peak should hit sometime around the year 2020. Turchin’s previous work has detected the same sorts of cycles in societies from ancient China to revolutionary France.

Of course, detecting a pattern does not tell you what has caused it. Turchin’s theory for when violence intensifies depends on two major factors. Both of these factors might derive from excessive population growth; in the early version of Turchin’s work, he was focusing on agrarian societies in which population growth leads directly to food shortages. But now that he is considering Industrial societies, Turchin is focusing more on the immediate causes laid out below.

First, whether from excessive population growth or technological disruption or whatever, there emerges a labor glut. The average wage drops in response, leading to diminished standards of living. Thus you see larger segments of the populace who are in a precarious situation, with the potential for violent outbreaks such as labor struggles, or ethnic competition with minorities, or political upheaval.

Second, there emerges “an oversupply of elites.” This can happen for a few reasons, and Turchin focuses on the economic one. The low cost of labor means that it is easier for those on the top to become far wealthier than they might have done in a more normal setting, leading to the accumulation of vast fortunes and a polarization of society. A consequence of this is that there is much more competition for the leadership positions in society, such as control of government offices. Politics becomes more nasty and partisan, leading in extreme cases to violent rivalries between elite factions struggling to secure their hold on power. Such violence is made easier by the larger number of poor, desperate people in society who can serve as a demagogue’s muscle.

In Turchin’s research, he finds that oversupply of elites has the strongest association with societal violence. This is easy to understand when one looks at places like the Philippines, in which politicians routinely employ armed militias to attack competitors (a horrifying example was the Maguindanao Massacre of 2009), or the Congo, which has been wracked with coup after coup. But even in the United States, a surplus of would-be leaders will tend to produce extreme ideologies, such as militant unionism in the 1920s, or the present upsurge in eco-terrorism.

I think many people, writers among them, mistake the relationship between cheap labor and exploitative rich. Often, a super-wealthy class emerges as a result of lots of poor people, who make it easier to be rich—that is, to benefit from the production of lots of other people. This is not to say that an exploitative class won’t try to keep everyone else poor, once it emerges. But the dynamics are complex here, and societal violence is one of the things keeping them in check.

(How might such violence be averted? Full discussion will have to wait for another post, but I find it rather interesting that the Biblical institution of Jubilee, in which land was returned to its ancestral owners and debts forgiven, follows a 50-year cycle.)

(Have I mentioned lately that my new book is available on Amazon Kindle? It’s called The Best Congress Money Can Buy: Stories of Political Possibility. You can read the first story for free here, and then buy it if you like. Enjoy!)

Concerning Cooperatives

25 Sunday Nov 2012

Posted by in Economics, Politics

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Thinking about how to make an economic system that is more humane, and less riven by class struggles, many social reformers have advocated for workers’ cooperatives (the Distributists being one example). Cooperatives differ from the traditional capitalist firm in that workers share ownership and management of the company, as opposed to being salaried employees with no participation in the profits besides what management feels like giving them. They differ from a socialist commune in that there is still private property, and individuals can benefit directly from the success of the firm, which tends to mitigate the typical Socialist tendency of “They pretend to pay us, and we pretend to work” and lead to more creativity and enterprise.

With these advantages, why hasn’t the cooperative become more popular in the United States? In part, because cooperatives come with some drawbacks. First, if workers share ownership in the company, what happens when you hire new people? Does that mean that you’ve just diluted the ownership of the existing employees? If so, then there will be a tendency of the owner-employees to delay hiring more people, even if it means sacrificing business opportunities. Or do different classes of employees have different shares of ownership? If so, then the cooperative differs from a typical capitalist firm only by degrees.

How much of the ownership of the firm accrues to the investors, as opposed to the employees? After all, without the initial investment, there would likely be no business in the first place. And asking employees themselves to buy in, as some cooperatives do, places a high bar in front of poor job-seekers.

Additionally, there will always be a place in a large-sized firm for experts of some kind, who will be paid more for their expertise. Should such experts, be they management or whoever, also get a disproportionate share of the company?

All of these questions have answers, and the answers will vary depending on the particular needs of each cooperative. But even if you could come up with an ideal structure for your own situation, it is far from clear that existing law could support the ownership structure you want. To my knowledge, in the United States the most common means for employee ownership of their company is the ESOP, or Employer Stock Option Plan, and these are typically structured so that employees have partial ownership without true control. While American law has well-understood prototypes for traditional capitalist firms, like the C-Corporation or the S-Corp, there are few prototypes for worker-owned cooperatives.

If such prototypes existed, then new insights could be gained as people experimented with them and figured out what works and what does not in different contexts. And cooperatives could become more accepted in modern industrial economies—which is not to say that they would displace the typical capitalist firm entirely, or even mostly. Each firm structure solves different problems. The best structure depends on your own situation, and the imperatives of your industry. Still, more options are good.

One handicap of your typical utopian social reformers is that they tend to focus on parapolitics, action outside the system, rather than trying to work within the system. True, such parapolitics often has an effect, but you only get mass adoption of your ideas in the face of total collapse of the system you are opposing. In this case, those who seek to have the cooperative form catch on in society ought to be lobbying for its inclusion in the tax code, the same way that a C-Corp or S-Corp is. With an off-the-shelf model to work with, with well-understood procedures for sharing ownership and profits, more entrepreneurs may elect the cooperative model without any political or social goal at all—which is how you win.

Random Fiction Excerpt #5

22 Thursday Nov 2012

Posted by in Credit, Economics, NaNoWriMo, Writing

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From my current NaNo:

“The news had gone out that Morris had gone deeply, staggeringly into debt in order to pay for his new mansion, and his reputation had correspondingly skyrocketed up into rarified territory. Estimates on how long he would have to work at his current income to pay down the debt ranged from a hundred years to nearly three hundred, depending on which prediction of future interest rates you went by. With this move, a master-stroke of commitment, Morris had demonstrated the depth of his loyalty to the socio-political system, on which he was now totally dependent in order to stay solvent.”

On Sovereignty, Trust, and Protectorates

04 Sunday Nov 2012

Posted by in Better Fantasy, Economics, History, Politics, State Formation, Writing

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I recently read a journal article by Peter Haldén titled A Non-Sovereign Modernity: Attempts to Engineer Stability in the Balkans 1820-90. He writes to correct the conventional view that international relations in modernity is all about sovereign, independent states, and that the earlier era of protectorates, vassal states, or other such semi-autonomous regions ended with the arrival of nationalism. Indeed, the rationalist, modern Concert of Europe deliberately used non-sovereign zones several times in the Balkans area in order to control the outbreak of political crises.

The topic remains important for us readers today for a few reasons. First, understanding history is always good (particularly for budding fiction writers, who have a tendency to assume that all stories must be set in modern states or in absolutist monarchies, and thus impoverish their stories.) Second, non-sovereign states never really went away; they were just sleeping. Understanding the dynamics of non-sovereign states gives us a fresh lens to understand places like Kosovo, Chechenya, or even international organizations such as the European Union or the United Nations.

The power politics of the 19th century were marked by several themes, but two of the most important were the decline of the Ottoman Empire as a great power, and the rise of Russia which aspired to take its place. The fundamental problem facing the European powers was how to manage the fragmentation of Ottoman authority, which expressed itself in events like the Greek revolution, without causing a full-blown war between the Great Powers over the spoils.

Briefly, the favored solution was to take outlying provinces of the Empire and turn them into non-sovereign states, under the aegis of the Concert of Europe. These provinces would still nominally be subject to the Turkish Caliph and would pay tribute, and they would be prohibited from having free diplomatic relations with other states as an independent state would, or from having a military. But they would have civil militias and police forces for defense, they would be self-governing, and they could have diplomatic relations with the Concert of Europe as a body. Importantly, the Ottoman Empire would be forbidden to maintain troops in these non-sovereign states.

How does this help? In modern International Relations, states often try to set up buffer zones between them and some potentially hostile neighbor. These zones typically take the form of other, smaller, states. For example, China uses the totalitarian hell state of North Korea as a buffer between it and South Korea, or Japan. The “Low Countries” of Belgium, Netherlands, and Luxembourg were used as a buffer between France and Germany, to their periodic detriment.

The idea is that if you don’t share a border with a potential foe, then there are fewer opportunities for friction that might escalate into a full-blown war. After all, it is hard to distinguish between positioning troops to defend your borders, and positioning troops to attack your neighbor. So the buffer state helps to cool down the temperature. The only problem is that when a buffer state is independent, it can rely only on its own force of arms to maintain itself. The history of the Low Countries graphically demonstrates how easily this can fail; moreover, the potential for a buffer state to become a full-blown military ally of one side or the other ensures that the situation remains tenuous.

A demilitarized nonsovereign territory, on the other hand, is not guaranteed by force of arms, but by the cooperation of the potential rivals under color of an international agreement. There is less likelihood of miscalculation or escalating tensions, and more opportunity for creative institutional design (read the article for some great examples); not all peoples are ready for statehood, after all, even aside from the objections of their current rulers. And there would be less competition between rivals such as Britain and Russia as there would be (and were) over who would dominate the policy of newly independent states, if the territories could only have relations with the international body as a unit and not with other states bilaterally.

For a modern parallel, we can look to the European Union, which began as the European Coal and Steel Community—a project to strip West Germany’s ability to produce war armaments without the cooperation of France, and vice versa. By effectively tying their own hands, the member states hoped to foreclose on the possibility of war between them, so they could focus on the vital task of withstanding the Soviet Bloc. Henceforth, relations between member countries would be based on partnership and negotiation, not power politics.

However, in the case of the Balkans, the stability of the protectorate arrangements for Greece and elsewhere depended crucially on the degree to which the Great Powers trusted each other. In the three cases that Haldén considers, the initial attempts to institute a nonsovereign territory broke down once Russia violated the terms of the agreement, and Britain could no longer trust the Russians to play nice. (I am oversimplifying grossly.) Indeed, the creation of new independent states from the former provinces of the Ottoman Empire was, in Haldén’s telling, a suboptimal outcome, forced on the Great Powers by the breakdown of cooperation and the increasing worry over Russia’s growing power. The independent states would have to fend for themselves, without the aegis of a Concert of Europe which was growing ever-less-concerted over time. No surprise that World War I kicked off in the Balkans; Serbia was one of these formerly nonsovereign states.

Similarly, arrangements such as the EU or the UN are hampered by the lack of trust between member states. Many predict that the current economic crisis may spell the end of the Euro currency, or of the EU altogether, because Germany will grow tired of footing the bill for its more spendthrift neighbors forever. Early aspirations for the UN to become a true world government, meanwhile, have run aground on the cold reality that Americans do not trust a body made up mostly of dictatorships to act with the public interest in mind.

Haldén also draws a fascinating parallel with the old free-markets/interventionism debate in economics. He writes that creating new independent states who would rely on their own armies for defense, and hoping that they can contribute to international stability, is comparable to the intent of the free market. Conversely, a managed protectorate under the oversight of an international body is similar to government control of the economy, under the theory that such control will lead to more manageable outcomes. Whether or not you believe that government control can lead to better outcomes in the abstract, it is clear that you will not desire actual government control unless you trust the government to play nice. If you do not trust the government, you will accept even the putatively suboptimal outcomes of the free market in exchange for keeping a measure of control over your own destiny.

Haldén apparently wrote a book exploring some of these themes, which I may want to read. For our purposes, we should remember that what we are familiar with is not everything that is possible. As well, if we want to build a new world, it is crucial that we trust the main players; otherwise, the world may turn out to be not what we expected.

The Talents of Others

27 Saturday Oct 2012

Posted by in Economics, Politics

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I just began reading John Tomasi’s recent book Free Market Fairness, which is an attempt to synthesize Libertarianism’s concerns for property rights and the importance of spontaneous order (rather than top-down government control) with High Liberalism’s concerns for social justice and care for the poor. I don’t know whether Tomasi’s project will be successful, but something like it is certainly welcome. And for me, the book has already been worth the purchase for the sake of a single sentence.

Tomasi here is paraphrasing the arguments of John Rawls, and particularly that institutions should be arranged so that poorer citizens are supported from the wealth of the richer—as Rawls put it, so citizens “share one another’s fate.” Tomasi adds: “Institutions must be arranged so people can look upon the special skills and talents of their fellow citizens not as weapons to be feared but as in some sense a common bounty” (Introduction, pg. xiv).

That phrase—”weapons to be feared”—is something that struck me. And yet it is obvious that in a system of competition, one man’s advantage is another’s loss. It would seem rational, from a narrow point of view, for economic competitors to try and minimize each others’ skill and ability. But if we all did that, society would collapse and there would be little wealth left to compete over. We need other people to trade with, and they must have talents worth trading for, or else no products of any complexity would ever be created.

So in a pure competitive system, you are left in an uneasy search for the optimal level of skill in other people—just enough to support your own activities without threatening your position. In theory, you can avoid the problem by designing institutions where other people’s success contributes to your own; this is the supposed aim of redistribution. (Still, redistribution is a blunt tool that discourages activity by the most productive, and also requires oppressive political structures that create their own problems.)

What annoys me is that the political faction most in favor of redistribution is not speaking of “shared bounty” and communal unity at all. Instead, they speak of how the rich don’t deserve the wealth they have, how they have exploited others, how they have a duty to give up their wealth, and so on. In fact, the reason that Tomasi’s turn of phrase was so striking to me is precisely that I had never encountered the idea put in quite that way before. The idea that—in the absence of proper institutions—a competitive society would lead to social discord and envy floats half-formed throughout much of our discourse, but more often is expressed in precisely those envious terms that Tomasi seeks to preempt.

So what sort of institutions can lead to a sense that one person’s success contributes to everyone else’s? The first thing that comes to my mind is anything having to do with inventing new things. Inventing new medicines, or a new and better solar panel, or writing clever software, can make many people’s lives much better. Software in particular is inherently scalable; it is nothing more than information, which can easily be transmitted to many people. So the success in inventing new things can certainly help many people. (I think this is why most people don’t resent the massive wealth of, say, Apple as they might do for an investment bank—because they can readily appreciate the way in which Apple’s wealth was generated by selling products that they, as individuals, benefited from.)

Still, this doesn’t precisely address the point. Not all industries act as such powerful force-multipliers for all of humanity as science or computing can. How can we create such an alignment of interests across society? I don’t know the answer off the top of my head, but probably institutions such as workers’ co-ops point in the right direction. Still, the most important part of finding answers is asking the right questions. Tomasi’s formulation is incredibly valuable for that purpose.

Ways to Improve Peer-to-Peer Lending

30 Sunday Sep 2012

Posted by in Credit, Economics, Finance, Investing

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For a long time now, I’ve been interested in the potential for Peer-to-Peer lending (P2P). Rather than people depositing money with a bank, which then turns around and lends the money to borrowers while keeping most of the profit, in P2P lending some service matches borrowers and lenders directly. Ideally, this allows borrowers to get loans at a cheaper rate, while still giving lenders a better rate of return. It also allows nontraditional borrowers to get funded, if they can tell a good enough story. But there are problems with P2P, to which I would like to propose some solutions.

Right now, the biggest names in American P2P lending are Lending Club, and Prosper.com, where I was a small lender back around 2007 or so. When I participated on Prosper, I was able to see instances where the model worked perfectly, and other instances where the model caused problems. Among the advantages were that groups of people who knew each other (whether In Real Life or on the internet) could provide each other with funds at below-market rates, as an expression of their fellowship. This is something I liked a lot, since Judaism tends to frown on lending money at interest anyway. (More on that topic in another post…) Additionally, some borrowers whose credit score was relatively low were able to convince borrowers that they were a good risk anyway, because of factors that their credit score did not reflect.

The bad news came from several sources. First of all, because all money had to be provided by the individual lenders, as opposed to a centralized source of funds like a bank, many otherwise-attractive borrowers who didn’t know how to market themselves went unfunded. Second, the need to market yourself in the first place can be a turn-off. Borrowing from people you know can lead to tension and a loss of privacy. One of the biggest advantages of the modern system of bank or credit-card lending (as opposed to borrowing from friends and family, as the “unbanked” tend to do) is that banks can lend functionally unlimited amounts of money if they choose to, and your financial circumstances are strictly between yourself and your banker. With Prosper as it stands now, neither of these two factors are at work.

The next problem was due to greed. In the early years, lenders were attracted to the high rates paid by low-quality borrowers, particularly “HR” or high-risk borrowers who could be made to pay up to 30% interest per year. The problem was that in most cases, these borrowers were staggeringly bad risks; those of us who jumped in with both feet ended up losing quite a bit of money when the loans were not repaid. Ultimately, we lacked the knowledge and temperament to tell a good borrower from a bad one, and to resist the lure of fat profits for taking unacceptable risks. There is a reason that (until the era of government bailouts) bankers had a reputation for sobriety, prudence, and conservatism. Bankers who lacked these qualities soon ceased to be bankers.

Note that Prosper responded, ultimately, by excluding the lowest-quality borrowers from the market. This managed to improve default rates; but the fundamental problem remains, that lending decisions are being made by amateurs, many of whom do not understand the risks well enough.

Another institution that claims to be P2P, the British institution Zopa, avoids this second problem by soliciting investor capital and simply making all the lending decisions itself, as a traditional lender would. But in this case, there is no actual interaction between borrower and individual “lenders”; Zopa is actually something like a mutual fund for lending with investor funds, rather than bank capital. It is not really a true peer-to-peer vehicle.

Is there a way to mitigate the problems of P2P without going to the other extreme and quashing the social aspect altogether?

Suppose that you have a Lender institution, a depositor (David) who wants to earn some money, and several borrowers (Brad, Ben, and Betty). David puts a chunk of money (say $5000) into his bank account with the Lender. The Lender then asks David if he is willing to lend money to particular people, at any point in the future, and at what minimum interest rate. David knows Brad, Ben and Betty; he decides that he would be willing to spot Brad up to $500 at a time, but only at the market interest rate—he’s not a close friend or anything. Betty, on the other hand, is someone that David likes, so while he’d only trust her with $200, he’s willing to lend the money to her at a nominal 1% interest to cover fees. He knows that Ben is irresponsible with his money, so he’d rather not risk his own money on Ben.

Note that during this process, David does not know if Brad or Betty are actually trying to borrow money right now. That information is kept from him. So Brad and Betty get to keep their privacy. If Brad or Betty should choose to lobby David for more money, that’s their choice. In the meanwhile, money that’s not specifically earmarked for particular borrowers can be treated like a normal bank deposit, earning some amount of money for David and having some level of guarantees.

Now suppose that Betty finally decides to borrow $20,000 for a new car. The Lender can see her credit score, and other such raw numbers; but it also can see that David, and several other depositors, are willing to trust Betty with money. This does two things: first of all, it shows Lender that people trust her, which can be an additional factor in the Lender’s decision to lend or not. Second, it means that they have to risk less of their own money for the same profit, because they can use money from the depositors who know Betty while still earning servicing fees.

The final decision is the Lender’s; if Betty remains a bad risk, Lender can protect the depositors from her. But on the flip side, if people who know her only pony up $5000, the Lender would be able to make up the difference with its own funds if they like Betty as a borrower, instead of letting her languish in social-lending purgatory. The portion of the money coming from depositors directly could be at below-market interest rates if they like, keeping the social aspect of P2P lending. The balance, coming from Lender, would be at market rates.

Obviously, such a system would not be for everyone. Some people would do well enough on Prosper.com or similar sites, even without such a system. Others might prefer Zopa, or even a traditional bank. Still, I think that the proposed system would make P2P borrowing and lending more attractive for a lot of people, mitigating some of the problems while keeping most of the advantages.

(Anyone who likes can implement this system. I only ask that you drop me a note or a comment letting me know, if you got the idea from this post.)

An Idea for How to Make Renting Homes Better

01 Sunday Jul 2012

Posted by in Credit, Economics, Finance, Investing, Real Estate

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Many fortunes are made in real estate. And, lured by those stories of success, lots of people have tried their hand at real-estate investing as well, with highly variable results. Meanwhile, many people who cannot buy homes of their own decide to rent instead.

But the present rental market has a lot of flaws in its structure. Take, for example, a common strategy used by new investors who don’t want to sink a lot of capital into a house. They will instead rent a place, perhaps for a long term to bring down their monthly rent, and then turn around and sublet it out to someone else for a higher price.

Now, these people are certainly providing a service of some kind. They are providing income to the owner of the property; if they chose a longer rental term, they are also providing a guarantee of long-term occupancy. But the eventual renter is paying a higher rate for his home than the owner is receiving. It’s possible that the renter has low credit and would not otherwise qualify, or perhaps would not have heard about the apartment without the marketing efforts of the investor-renter; but still, it seems that there ought to be more opportunities for mutual benefit.

One thing that’s always struck me about renting is that most landlords do not allow you to prepay your rent. There are good legal reasons for this, but it still seems to be a missed opportunity. The typical landlord carries a mortgage with an interest rate of more than 5%, sometimes much more. By contrast, 10-year Treasury notes are yielding around 1.6%. If a renter could sink extra cash into prepaying rent, with an annualized discount of (let’s say) 3%, and the landlord used the extra cashflow to pay down the mortgage, it would benefit both sides. All that is necessary is to create the appropriate legal structure.

When you think about the components of a property’s value, you could break it down into two parts: the right to live in a place for a given time, and the actual ownership of the property. Suppose you actually broke them into separate pieces. For example, I could have a house I wanted to rent out, but I wasn’t interested in collecting a rent check every month. Instead, I created a product: the right to live in my house for ten years. I then assigned that product a value, just like a piece of real estate. Say the house itself is worth $100,000; I then value ten years of use at, say, $40,000. If I find a buyer, I can get all that cash upfront and not have to worry about collecting rent every month. At the end of the term, I still own the house and can benefit from its price appreciation, tax depreciation, and so on.

Now suppose I’m a renter, or investor-renter. Buying a ten-year lease gives me a discounted price, compared to having to pay for it month by month. It also lets me lock in the price for the entire term, giving me stability. Plus, since I don’t actually own the house, I don’t have to worry about property taxes. But how might I come up with all that cash up front? If this becomes the norm, it ought to be easy to borrow that money from the bank—especially when you consider that a ten-year rental term is an asset like property is, and can be used to sublet the house in turn, or repossessed by the bank if necessary.

It would be easier for a bank to repossess rental rights than a full property, meanwhile. At all times, there is an actual owner who is interested in maintaining the value of the property, as opposed to home foreclosures that often sit vacant and get trashed, destroying massive amounts of value. And it is easier to rent a property than to sell it, and lots of managers that the bank can call upon to fill up their newly-repossessed asset. Finally, it ought to be easier to appraise use-rights than the actual underlying property, making underwriting easier. So from the bank’s perspective, this might be an attractive asset class.

Subletting a rental-agreement house will provide more gains from trade, in this scenario. I, the investor-renter, have provided the benefits of upfront capital, allowing me to get a good price. I can then sublet to a traditional renter, who does not have to provide upfront capital but can still pay a price comparable to the going rate. I make money from the difference between my discounted upfront payment, and the month-by-month payments of the renter, without having to “overcharge” as subletting investors must do today.

This all will need fleshing out, of course. Navigating the legal minefields alone will be an effort, not one that I care to undertake right now, and people would have to work out the practical problems involved with any new asset class. And this kind of structure will not be appropriate in many cases. Still, its mere existence would cause ripple effects out into the market that would benefit everyone. And perhaps someone more enterprising can see this idea and make use of it.